Break Away
by E.G. Sparks
Summary: Michael, Sucre, Lincoln, CNote, and Abruzzi have escaped the police at the airport when they find and kidnap a pretty thing on the side of the interstate. They know she'll make or break the escape... but not just how many cards she's holding. AUSeason 2
1. So I break

"We run."  
So began the grand dash, the one that would dictate the rest of their lives… whether they'd live or die, rot away in a 8x10 cell or live it up somewhere, anywhere but here. Everything rested on this, the race of convicts against cops, and neither side was sure of where the victory would lay.  
20 minutes ago, Michael would have sworn that fate had it planned for any party but theirs, not that he'd told his co conspirators that. They had enough to worry about. Families, mysteries, life… it was all the hope that they had and he refused to dash it all to the ground.  
"Pst!"  
Michael turned, gulping in gasps of air before crouching down beside the four remaining convicts. He was about to ask why they'd stop and suggest they keep going when he saw what Abruzzi had fixated upon: a girl, a lone girl on the opposite side of the road they'd been following for some 10-15 minutes. She was kneeling with her back to them, beside two cars, one a matching red truck and trailer set and the other a beaten black Chevy sedan.  
Abruzzi smiled cruelly. "Who's up for a roadside treat?"  
Michael remained silent, taking in each detail of the scene unfolding around him. "We take the car, leave the girl."  
"We could use something to negotiate for."  
"I don't plan to get into a situation where we'd need to."  
"What you plan doesn't always happen…" Abruzzi sneered again. "We take her with us. If she's quiet, she'll go home almost as good as new, and if she isn't. Well." He chuckled. "What have we lost?"  
"If you thinkI'm letting you-"Michael stopped as Lincoln pushed him back.  
"We're not going to get through a check-point without a clean front-man. Michael. You know that."  
Both brothers paused, waiting for the other to concede. It was Michael who finally cracked, rubbing the back of his head as he spoke through clenched teeth. "Fine, but Abruzzi," the Italian lifted his head, "you don't touch her."

Amanda sighed and watched the mist of her breath climb into the sky. She wished her brother could see it, wished he could understand her fascination with the frigid season she'd come to call home. For now, he couldn't, and until now, she hadn't really thought of sharing it with him. The two of them had never been that close until recently, since, for the most part, they'd been polar opposites all their lives. She loved the snow on a cold Christmas morning. He loved the warm golden days of July when one could laze about the pool. She loved Chinese food. He was allergic to it. She was lactose intolerant. He won the state's milk-drinking binge.  
Somehow though, they'd managed to find the respect for one another that they'd never had before. Things were different than before and ever-changing, even now. They were… they were….  
Her thoughts flew apart frantically as a sound broke through the memories replaying in her mind. Had she noted it earlier, had she moved just a little quicker, she'd have seen the 5 men approaching her before the largest one grabbed her from behind. Amanda screamed into his hand and kicked back against her captor, but to no avail. She'd been trapped.  
"Shh!" The larger man, the one holding her back against him kept whispering the same thing. "We're not going to hurt you."  
She bit into his hand again and screamed aloud as he pulled his arm out of her reach. "We're not going to hurt you! Just listen." He grunted each word, resisting the urge to fling the girl to the ground when she began to dig her elbows into his ribs.  
"Help! Help me! Somebody please!"  
In the back of her mind, Amanda realized that she was moving, being carried towards the enclosed bed of her idling truck off the road's shoulder, and she knew if they got her there, she'd have little chance of escaping again.  
"Give me a hand here!"  
Before she knew it, the veil of terror had closed over her senses, and she found herself sitting in the bed of the truck, alone. The men were in the front and she could hear them looking for the parking brake. Suddenly the fear she had for them couldn't surmount the fear she had for her brother's safe-being.  
She slammed a fist against the rear window and repeated the action until a cunning, cruel looking man pulled open the slide. "You make a ruckus, girlie, and we may have to do something."  
"You can't leave my brother."  
"Oh, but I do believe we can."  
"Maybe you could, but will I help you if you do?"  
The sly face smiled, sending chills down Amanda's spine. "You'll help us, regardless… if you want to live."  
"You!" She caught the eye of the large man who'd grabbed and carried her to the truck. "You said you wouldn't hurt me. Don't hurt my brother."  
He looked up from thesteering wheel and to the man in the passenger's seat. Amanda couldn't quite see him, but he must've ruled in her favor becausea few minutes later, they were on the road, 5 men in the cab, Amanda and her brother in the truck bed. He was unconscious, as he had been when she'd left him by the road, but he was with someone who could take care of him. At least, some safety was guaranteed.

Michael stared out of the window, listening absent-mindedly as Sucre continued scanning the map for the most likely checkpoint on this road. Despite the fresh adrenaline of the run, he still couldn't shake this feeling of foreboding. Everything had gone to pot in such a short period of time and now, even when the slightest sense of hope was beginning to dawn on the group, Michael kept going back to the girl Lincoln had grabbed by the roadside. She was unreadable, no… worse than even that; she was an unreadable variable, and one that their plan was now relying on.  
Sucre pushed the map between the front seats and pointed to an intersection on the map. "The scanner said something about this area."  
Michael continued watching out the window. "How far?"  
"About 20 minutes away."  
"Pull over." Michael rubbed the back of his head again. "I need to talk to her."  
"Are you sure?" Lincoln had taken to giving him a certain worried older brother look over the past few weeks, and again, Michael could see it cross his brother's face.  
"We have to."

Amanda caught a breath in her throat as the truck began to slow. What were they doing? Where were they? Was this the end of the road? Subconsciously, she pulled herself back into the furthest corner of the bed as a man's shadow crossed the side of the truck cap. She could see him standing at the tailgate, hear him fumbling with the handle, and suddenly, the doors were open. He was young, too young, she thought, to be running around the back roads of Illinois with a posse that grabbed women.  
"Amanda?"  
She stared in shock.  
"We found your Driver's license up front." Slowly, he climbed into the bed and closed the doors of the truck cap. He motioned towards the unconscious man lying beside the girl. "Brother, right?"  
"Yes." The answer was little more than a whisper.  
"Older or younger?"  
"Older."  
He paused, a familiar glint in his eye as again, a plan began to form. Maybe this girl wasn't as impassable as he'd thought. "What happened to him?"  
"He's epileptic. He had a fit after his car broke down."  
"You came to save him."  
"Yes."  
"Save him a lot?"  
"More than most." She stared at the man sitting across from her. "Why are you asking me all these questions?"  
He smiled slowly. "I'm a younger one too… and that," he pointed to the man in the driver's seat, the one who'd towed Amanda to the car, "is my brother."  
Amanda looked from one to the other, finally settling back on Michael. "So?"  
"So. Would you do anything for your brother?"  
"Haven't yet found the thing I wouldn't do."  
"I broke into jail for mine."  
"You're," she fumbled for the words, half out of shock, half out of fear, "you're the convicts they're looking for?"  
He stayed quiet, gauging her reaction.  
"You're the Burrows… that man killed the President's brother." She clenched her fists over her eyes, choking back a sob. "What do you want with me…"  
"He was framed. I had to help him."  
Amanda lifted her head. "And now you want me to help you?"  
"We can't get through the checkpoint without you."  
"Say that I do help you." She held her face. "Will you let me go?"  
"Eventually… but I won't let anyone hurt you." He held out a hand. "Shake?"  
She nodded, took his hand. "Call me crazy, but I believe you."  
"About which part?"  
"All of it." She scoffed, shaking her head. "I must be losing it."  
"I don't believe that." He smiled, opened the doors of the truck cap. "Showtime."

The lights loomed up from the darkness, flashing red and blue against the black of the night. Amanda pulled up to the checkpoint, rolled down her window, and held out her driver's license. The officer lifted his flashlight from the card to the face leaning out of the window. "Him?" She looked to her brother in the passenger seat. "Anton Springer, my brother."  
"Can't speak for himself?"  
"In case you hadn't noticed, officer, he's passed out. I'm just trying to get him home."  
"And, uh, what's in the trailer?"  
"Art."  
"Art?"  
"I do woodworking and carpentry… y' know, art?"  
"Listen, Ms. Springer, there are dangerous men out here and I'm not about to let them get any further than they have."  
"I can appreciate that, Mr…" she paused to glance at his name-tag, "Tinsley, but I don't believe I match your prisoners' descriptions."  
The officer set his jaw and slid back from the door. "Step out of the car, Ma'am."  
"You're kidding."  
"We're checking all vehicles."  
Amanda struggled to keep the façade together as she followed officer Tinsley to the trailer doors. It didn't matter that she knew she shouldn't be so emotionally invested in the convict's that were now hiding in the pull-behind. She believed that man who'd talked to her in the back of the truck. What had he said his name was? Michel? Michael.  
"Ma'am, would you open the trailer?"  
"If anything breaks while you're looking, I'm going to ask for your badge number."  
"Ma'am."  
She swallowed nervously, unlatched the doors and threw them wide open. The officer laughed. "Well, well. What do we have here? Art, I was told?"  
"The art's packed up."  
Tinsley shone the flashlight across the stacks of U-Haul boxes. "A little obsessive for a short jaunt back home with your brother."  
"What breaks, I can't sell."  
Amanda watched him scan the stacks, and crossed her arms as he turned back to her. "Satisfied?"  
"Just doing my job, Ma'am." He returned her license. "You have a nice night." The sarcastic smile dropped again as he walked back to the next car, ready to interrogate another driver. Amanda barely noticed.  
She couldn't stop her hands from shaking as she climbed into her truck once more and fastened her seatbelt. Somewhere deep inside, she'd completely expected for the checkpoint officers to catch the men hiding behind the boxes in the trailer…. But that Michael was craftier than he looked. She'd had that trailer since she quit her job nearly 5 years ago, and even she'd had a hard time seeing that the boxes weren't stacked all the way to the back wall.  
Ahead of her, another officer waved for Amanda to pull out and continue on her merry way. She happily did just that, breathing a sigh of relief as the last of the checkpoint's lights disappeared behind her. They'd made it.

They'd made it.

Amanda smiled to herself, humming the first few measures of a bluegrass gospel song, never knowing that the real race was just beginning, or that she'd kill of one of the men riding with her before this adventure was over.


	2. But Something Felt So Wrong Here

As Amanda would look back on the events of that night, she would better see the things that led to her collapse and form the plans that could have better served both her family and the ragtag team of convicts. If they'd formed those plans then, maybe those men wouldn't have died, maybe she wouldn't have a contract out on her head, maybe she wouldn't be wanted for murder and accessory to escape… but as she was now, Amanda was blissfully unaware of what was to come. She could never have handled it otherwise.

"Why does an artist have an off-the-grid cabin?"  
"Ha. It's my former boss's cabin. When the company went under, I bought it for a stop between home and the art galleries in Chicago and Madison. It took some finagling and some folded business fronts, but I got it with little to no attachment to my name- not completely legal, but… you know how that goes." Amanda finished the last tuck under the mattress then threw the comforter to the stranger across the bed. "That's yours."  
"You're one of those charmed people, aren't you?" Michael expected a laugh or a smile, but she wilted visibly before turning her attention to the next and last cot needing to be made for the night.  
"I'm anything but charmed." She whispered. "Look at tonight. Miles and miles of interstate, and I'm on the exact stretch that you are exactly when you're looking for a new plan. Charmed? No."  
"Tell us to leave."  
"That's not what I meant-"  
"It's not too late to get away clean."  
"Who? You or me?"  
A long silence followed as both weighed one another's reactions against that which they knew about the other. For him, the outburst didn't fit with the quiet, rosy demeanor he'd seen all night. For her, the conversation and the thought of the questions to follow had brought a well-taught misgiving to the surface. Suddenly, and without even trying, both were chary of each other.  
Amanda dropped the coverlet on the last cot. "If you'll excuse me, I had better be getting to bed." She'd taken but 6 steps when Abruzzi stepped into the doorway, effectively blocking the room's only exit. "Petulance is a terrible vice, girlie."  
"I'm sure yours outweigh mine…"  
"Alls washed clean if we ask-"  
"Move, John." It didn't matter that he didn't completely trust this girl anymore. He'd said he wouldn't let any of them hurt her, and Michael had always been a man of his word, however hard it would be to keep it.  
Slowly, Abruzzi stepped back to the side but Amanda didn't take her eyes from him. He smiled almost unwaveringly until she gave him a look of utter contempt. "Don't think…" she hissed, "that I can't find a way to turn just one of you in, because I'll do it."  
It looked as if John wanted to say something back but caught himself just in time. Amanda scoffed then turned back to Michael. "I'm down the hall if you need anything, but you," she looked back at Abruzzi, "if I see you wandering around, looking for trouble, do not hesitate to believe I will shoot you. Good-night."  
For different reasons entirely, both men watched the girl turn and depart down the hall, hating and admiring her all in the same moment. Michael wished he could talk to her more, right now, to understand just where she was coming from on the charts. Abruzzi, meanwhile, was already forming his plan of attack… one to kill three birds with one giant stone.

Long after Abruzzi left the room and the lights were turned out, the questions were still hounding Michael. What kind of girl was this? Why would she so willingly agree to help, especially when she barely knew them? Nearly two hours had gone by and finally, Michael was giving up on trying to force his mind to rest. It didn't even matter whether he wanted to sleep or not, because every time he closed his eyes, all he could see and think of was Amanda- pale-skinned, blue-eyed, curly raven-haired, and confusing as nothing Amanda.  
There were any number of possibilities as to her true identity. She could be one of the VP's lemmings, ready and willing to set up all the men for a fall, but why would she be so edgy around Abruzzi if she was a trained killer? It could very well be an act… or she could actually be a normal girl who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.  
"Hey, you still awake?"  
"As I'll ever be." Michael stayed still, not even needing to look to know his brother was giving him the same concerned expression he'd been giving him all month. "You should sleep."  
"You should too." Lincoln sat up and dropped his feet to the floor. "You're still planning."  
"Thinking."  
"You're planning."  
Michael sighed and looked over to his brother. "I'm planning."  
"What for?"  
"Amanda."  
"You think she's someone else's?"  
"She didn't seem edgy around Abruzzi to you?"  
"A little bit… who wouldn't?"  
"Someone who doesn't know him." It wasn't something Michael wanted to think about, but it was possible. It'd even explain why Amanda had been so calm around everyone except Abruzzi. He could deal with a mob lackey quicker than one of the VP's.  
"You think she's…"  
"I don't know."  
Both brothers stopped, settling their focus on different points around the room. Neither wanted to believe that they'd stumbled yet again into a conspiracy plot, but it was something they had to consider nonetheless. The slightest slip could mean death for one brother and life in prison for the other, and Michael would do anything to keep from that from happening again.  
Lincoln sighed, more tired than he'd been in his life but too haunted by nightmares to rest. "I'm not about to get in on this right now. I'm going downstairs."  
"You sure?"  
"Yeah, and hey," Lincoln bumped the side of his brother's cot. "Try to get some sleep."  
As the door closed, Michael's mind wandered almost unwaveringly to Amanda and the chance she was working with Abruzzi. Was she edgy around him or just uncomfortable? And how would she have known him prior to tonight? She'd said she didn't live around here. The lines weren't connecting and again she was a variable, able to make or break the rest of this escape.  
Michael pulled his hands back comfortably under his head, considering each of the night's events until he came to the brief encounter between Amanda and Abruzzi. _"Don't think that I can't find a way to turn just one of you in, because I'll do it." _I'll do it.  
He smiled, finally drifting into a dreamless sleep.

A body…a thunderclap… a flickering reflection of a face her mind couldn't seem to completely erase: they all haunted her dreams. Amanda awoke suddenly, bolting into a sitting position before she looked about the room. Anton still slept on the bed to her left. The windows and the door were still locked, but she couldn't shake this feeling that someone was there. Slowly, she climbed out of bed and crossed to the doorway, hoping if she saw it was bolted, she would be able to convince her mind to sleep again and ignore the familiar unease.  
It was the moment she reached the door, she heard it- a dull thud from someone else's movement in the room, and suddenly, she was pinned between a shadowy figure and the wall. "Ant-" a rough hand came down across her mouth as she tried to scream.  
"You'll shut up, girlie."  
Every cell in Amanda's body recoiled as her mind placed the voice. It was him, the Italian who had watched her every move earlier that night. How had he gotten in? What did he want? What was he going to do? She shrieked into his hand only to cry out for a third time as he flung her head back against the wall  
"Don't make me hurt you again."  
Amanda could barely focus on the arm pinning her hands above her head, but she knew he was waiting for her to look at him, to show she was listening, and so she forced her eyes to settle on his face. He smiled. "Good. Now, I have a proposition for you, pretty. Our boy Michael has something that belongs to me and I need to get it back. If you find it for me, I'll leave. If you don't," Abruzzi leaned closer, "I'll kill you and make your brother wish he was dead." For a moment, he stopped, taking in the sight of the girl against him before releasing her hands and letting her sink slowly to the floor. "You have two days. Get me Fibonacci… or I get you."  
Ages passed after he left, his footsteps receding softly down the hall, and still, Amanda didn't move. She could only think of tonight's sheer lunacy. What had she done? She'd let these men into her house. She'd endangered not only herself but Anton… and all because of that one night some 18 years ago, the one that was now creeping once more into her dreams.  
Centuries could have come and gone as she crouched there against the wall, unable and unwilling to convince her body to move- lulled into a trance by the thoughts that made it through the painful dark and the sound of Anton's gentle snores.  
Finally, she couldn't take anymore. The dull throbbing, what Abruzzi had asked her to do, and the shame over the fact that she was actually considering helping him were too much; she had to find something else to focus on.  
As Amanda pulled herself up to stand, the dull ache erupted into its previous raw pain, and she found herself gripping the open door to keep from collapsing again. After a beat or two, she forced another step then another and another until, by the end of the hall, the pain had numbed to the much preferred dull twinge.  
It didn't matter that she knew she should go back to bed. She couldn't do it. She couldn't face the risk that she could very well be thrown back into the nightmare from which she'd awoken only an hour ago- not now, not with what she was thinking of doing. How… how could she think- Amanda stopped in the middle of the stairs. The den's light was on and she could see the shadow of a man on the opposite wall. It didn't appear to be Abruzzi, but she warily peeked around the doorway nonetheless. It wasn't him. "Lincoln?"  
He turned from the wall of bookcases. "Oh, uh."  
"Amanda." She smiled.  
"Right. Did I wake you up?"  
"No, bad dreams. You?"  
"The same- uh, listen, if you want to be alone, I can go back upstairs."  
"No, no. It's fine. I just needed to come down here and think."  
Amanda's mind was already churning, awkwardly searching for a subtle way to leave without giving herself away. It was bad enough that she would have to face Michael soon and get this Fibonacci Abruzzi wanted, but to face Lincoln as well? The man who'd been framed for the Vice-President's murder and hunted even within the security of a jail?  
No excuse came and so finally, she dropped into one of the twin loungers, the other of which Lincoln was now sitting in, lost in thought. Both sat quietly for a long time, gazing about the rooms until their minds would settle on some remembrance or fear of what could come next. Amanda was deep in a plan for Abruzzi when Lincoln finally broke the silence. "I am sorry."  
She looked at him quizzically.  
"For grabbing you- we never planned on it."  
"I understand … and I'm sorry too… for all that's happened to you."  
"It's not your fault."  
"I know." She paused. "Can I ask you a question?"  
"Sure."  
"How did you get wrapped up in this?"  
"That," he sighed, "is a long story."  
"So? We've got 3 hours until sunrise."  
"Good point."  
"I just want to know what I'm getting into here."  
They both waited for the other to speak, half expecting a retreat into contemplative silence. Finally, Lincoln leaned forward. "I hope you're not getting into anything."  
"I hope so too."  
He sighed again. "Fine. There are still a few holes, but I'll tell you what I know. I guess you could say it started when Dad left and Mom died- that's when life really took off downhill, but Michael… he recovered a lot faster than I did. He always does."


	3. Gotta take a risk

Michael woke slowly, his body having grown unaccustomed to rest. After all, it'd been months since he last slept, really slept without worrying, or planning, or thinking about what was going to happen to his brother. Had it really only been months? It felt like years and sometimes, he wished it had been. If he'd had more time, maybe he wouldn't have had to hurt Sarah like he did. She'd risked her whole career as a Doctor for him, even her life… and she shouldn't have had to. He wondered, especially now, how she was. What was she up to? Was she in danger?  
Danger... Amanda. As quick as he'd thought of Sarah, his mind returned again to the girl that'd taken over his thoughts last night. Was it a good or a bad sign that she didn't call the police? Most people would've… but obviously, Amanda wasn't like most.  
He sat up and, finding that his brother was gone, crept to the door and out into the hall. It wasn't like Lincoln to just get up and not sleep. He preached about getting rest- he always had. One of Michael's earliest memories was that of his brother chasing him through their parent's apartment, trying to make sure he was in bed by the time either parent came home. Lincoln not sleeping was concern enough but not returning to bed? Something wasn't right.  
Michael continued creeping, slinking down the stairs and to the doorway of the kitchen, where he stopped to listen to the ongoing conversation. He didn't know who was in the room- he hadn't had time to look- but he recognized Amanda's voice first.  
"Wait. So they tried to kill you during a riot in prison, tried to kill you when you were moved out to see your son, and all while they had you on death row for a murder you didn't do."  
"Yeah." It was Lincoln.  
"Well. If they're really doing this to draw your father out, why haven't they done anything to Michael? Why are they just going after you?"  
"I knew him better, I guess. Mike was so young."  
"He's still his son, just like you. There must be a reason they want you more."  
"There is." Michael stepped into the doorway. "We just don't know it."  
"Hey. I was about to come kick you out of bed." Lincoln dropped his fork beside the last of the eggs on his plate. "Didn't know you slept anymore."  
"I didn't either. What about you?"  
"Nah. I stayed up talking with our beautiful hostess."  
Michael couldn't help but agree with his brother on this topic. Last night's Amanda couldn't compare to this morning's. There, in the dark kitchen, her pale skin gleamed and her eyes glimmered smartly. Her hair, which must've been clipped up last night, was now loose, flowing down to her mid back and catching the light in rivers of raven curls.  
The tresses shook as with Lincoln's remark, she laughed, "Don't push it." She looked back at the clock over the stove then turned again to the younger of the brothers. "You'd better eat. We're leaving in about an hour."  
"Leaving?" Michael looked at his brother.  
"Plan's on." She said it as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "You need to get to Utah then Mexico. We live in Montezuma. You need a place to hide out until the heat is off. I have a place big enough to fit."  
"Listen. You don't want to-"  
"Michael," Lincoln stood. "We'll do it."  
"Mind if I ask what else the plan entails?"  
"I actually needed to talk to you about that." Amanda slid a plate of food across the counter. "Sit."  
Michael crossed the room and pulled out the stool directly across from their hostess, but she didn't notice- her eyes were following Lincoln out of the room.  
"You wanted to discuss something?"  
Her eyes flew back to Michael. "Wha- I… uh… I don't know how to say this. I… I want to know who I'm helping here. Just humor me; tell me what these guys did, because I get you. I get Lincoln, but I don't get the others."  
Both were silent for a long moment, watching the other, unsure of what to say. Finally, Michael nodded and picked up his fork. "Go ahead."  
"Benjamin."  
"Possession of stolen goods, not that he knew. His family thinks he's fighting overseas."  
"Sucre."  
"Aggravated robbery. He did it for a girl."  
Amanda leaned forward. "Abruzzi."  
"Abruzzi…" He paused, "is the kind of guy I'd prefer to leave in jail."  
"Why?" She knew, but still asked.  
"He's a mob hit man."  
"A mob hit man."  
"Yeah."  
She had to do it. "I'm not stupid, you know. If he's a hit man, he should've called the "family" as soon as he had a chance. He hasn't, which means he wants something and seeing as how you're the master-mind, I'd bet you have whatever it is."  
Michael looked up at the girl, cautiously feeling for the right words. Something about what she'd just said bothered him greatly… like she already knew about what she was asking for. "He wants Fibonacci."  
"What's Fibonacci?"  
"Fibonacci's a who, a witness in the case against the Abruzzi syndicate. I got his location before I went in, used it to get some favors."  
"But you didn't tell the address?"  
"No."  
"Why?"  
"Because he did the right thing. He and his family don't deserve to die because of that."  
As Michael finished, she went quiet, head reeling from the proverbial slap across the face. Fibonacci wasn't something, he was someone… and he'd be murdered if she ever gave Abruzzi the information.  
Michael, meanwhile, sat, methodically gauging each reaction. She did. She knew something, but what? "You're very interested in this."  
She looked up from the counter. "Yeah…well, it does involve me now, doesn't it?"  
"What involves you?"  
Amanda stopped and looked at the figure in the doorway. "Ant."  
"Mandy." He stepped in and behind the counter to better see the stranger across from his sister. "Who're the guests?"  
"They're guests."  
"I'd never have guessed."  
"They helped me last night when you passed out. I promised them a ride out west with us."  
Anton didn't take his eyes of Michael. "So I owe you a thank you, Mr. …"  
"Webber." They shook hands. "Michael Webber."  
"And what do you do, Mr. Webber, that would have you out on the road with 4 friends in the middle of the night?"  
"Construction."  
"Construction?"  
"You've got it."  
Amanda pulled her brother's arm. "Ant. Can I talk to you for a minute… privately?"  
"Gladly." He looked again at Michael. "In fact, plan for more than a minute." He added, then followed her from the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" Anton stopped almost as soon as he thought they were out of earshot. He wasn't, but he believed he was.  
"I'm helping someone besides us, Ant. You do remember what that's like, don't you?"  
"Don't play the higher-than-thou card, Mandy. You pick up 5 guys in the middle of the night, in the middle of Illinois, and bring them home when I can't even protect you? What… what was going through your head?"  
"That I wanted to help them."  
"And who are they?"  
"You want to know? Fine. They're escaped convicts from Fox River."  
"Mandy, I want the truth!"  
"Well, what you've got is what I'm giving you. Deal with it." Amanda knew she was pushing it, knew that this all could throw Anton into another fit, but she couldn't back down now before everyone was safe. A vein along his jaw was pulsing. His fists were clenched. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him this mad.  
"Just.." He stopped to force some of the anger from his voice. "Just tell me that you're not doing this for her."  
"Ant…"  
"Promise me."  
"I promise-I'm not doing it for her."  
"Then go pack before I change my mind."  
Amanda paused and looked at her brother for a long moment, not even sure what to say. He'd caved. Why was that bothering her more than if he'd not? Maybe it was the fact that both of the siblings had been at odds since she'd been 2 and he'd been 4, right up until they were 8 and 10, respectively, when the anger couldn't conquer the sorrow. Anton dropped his hands from his eyes and, pushing past his sister, silently left the room. Amanda couldn't help but feel like she'd just done something she would greatly regret… and that she'd hurt her own brother more than she could've possibly imagined.


	4. Learn how to fly

Author's note: In writing this chapter, I came across a song that said volumes about some of the emotions Amanda's feeling. In fact, it matched so closely that I just had to link it in here. If you have the CD, feel free to pop that in instead of listening to the URL, but if you don't, just click on the song when it appears in the story. Hope you enjoy it!

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The feeling persisted throughout the day and when it didn't, Amanda's mind was forced into repeating the meeting she'd had with Abruzzi last night. Neither were things she really wanted to think about but she couldn't avoid them, not with the hit-man watching her every move from the back seat and her brother sitting quietly beside her.  
In the 11 hours that had passed between Panora, Iowa and Grand Island, Nebraska, Anton had said little to nothing, which bothered Amanda more than she thought it would.  
Yeah, she'd acted like it was a burden to take care of him over the last few years, but he was her brother- and the only one that could understand and relate to the tragedy she still carried so close to her heart. More than almost anything right now, she wanted her brother to talk… to tell her it'd be all right, that he'd make sure nothing happened to her, but she knew with Abruzzi's threat still hanging over their heads, it was her duty to protect Anton and to keep him from trying to protect her.  
"How much longer until we hit Montezuma?" Abruzzi leaned forward between the two front seats.  
"About 6-8 more hours."  
"And are we planning a stop?"  
Amanda tightened her grip on the steering wheel, her knuckles whitening as she imagined throwing the hit-man out right here, right now. Of all the people in the van, he'd been the most talkative during their 11 hour jaunt. He asked about Anton, then Amanda, then the plan, their home, even why Amanda kept playing the Fullmetal Alchemist soundtrack over and over again, to which she replied each time with, "I like Bratja, and if you don't, I'll be glad to leave you elsewhere." In truth, she didn't want to risk having Anton hear a news-break about the prison escape and put last night's events together… so Amanda did the only thing she could- she played the one CD she had in her car and Abruzzi hated it apparently.  
"We can stop here." It was Michael.  
Amanda looked back. "Fine by me. Any specific hotel you want?"  
"Motel."  
"You know what I meant."  
Sucre leaned into the conversation too. "What's the difference?"  
"Hotels are enclosed, open into halls-"  
"Motel rooms open to the outside." Amanda smirked, having finished the criminal mastermind's sentence. "We're in luck then. There's only one motel in town."  
Anton rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and can I stay elsewhere?"  
"You're going to leave your poor little sister in a motel with 5 'dangerous' men, Ant?"  
He sighed, rolling his eyes for the second time. "Just get me somewhere I can sleep without 'Melissa' or 'Bratja', okay?"  
"I'll see what I can do." She glanced over to stick her tongue out at him or do something else equally childish, but Anton had already turned back to the side window, completely silent once more. There was that bad feeling again.

"Sucre and Franklin, you're sharing the room on the end. Burrows, you two are three doors down from that, and Abruzzi- you've got your own room on the other end." Amanda jerked her shoulder down and away as the Italian's hand brushed her arm. He smiled. "And uh, where are you and big brother?"  
"You think I'd tell you?" She shoved his key into his hand. "Don't touch me again."  
"Jumpy, aren't we?"  
"Yeah, well, you try and get four rooms while the attendants talking all about the convicts that escaped out in Illinois. I'd like to see any of you handle that." She meant it too. She expected to run into people that were interested in the case, but she'd never expected to find an aspiring Sherlock Holmes in the very motel they'd stopped in. "Monsters," he'd said. "If I get my hands on them, I could shoot right up to detective… or Commissioner."  
"You think they'll make it out of Illinois?" she'd asked.  
"Naw… but if they cross my turf, the president herself is gonna hear my cry. $100,000 apiece is very persuading. I heard the big one, that Lincoln guy could get y' $300,000 just for his one measly self."  
"Wow." She'd begun to regret their choice of lodgings at this point. "Well, if you see 'em, my congrat's."  
"Thanks, Missus."  
Amanda shook her head and took her brother's arm. "Come on, Ant."  
"You go ahead."  
"What?"  
"I… I need a drink."  
Both looked at each other, not even sure what to say anymore. She wanted to tell him who the convicts were and she knew he wanted to know… but she couldn't do it- not yet. If she did right now, he'd freak and probably make himself sick again. She couldn't afford for him to have two fits in as many days- it could hurt him too much.  
"That is all-right, isn't it?" Right. Mr. Sarcasm.  
"It's fine." She handed him a key. "219, and come back soon, okay?"  
"I'll be back before you know it."  
Amanda watched him leave… and after a long moment, she crossed back from the van to #219. Michael was waiting there, leaning back against the door and watching her almost as intently as she had Anton.  
"He okay?"  
"He'll be fine." She hoped so, at least.  
"You fight like this a lot?"  
"No…" She whispered. "We don't."

  
---------------Start: Rihanna's Unfaithful---------------

The squeak of her hand wiping the steam from the mirror finally brought Amanda's mind back from the fray. She barely even remembered being in the shower; the whole time, she'd been thinking of Fibonacci, then Abruzzi… then Michael. Two days ago, she hadn't known any of these men and now, they were going to affect the rest of her life, whether she'd be the murdered or the murderer. Would it even be murder to give away a location of a man she'd never met and hardly heard of? Her conscience screamed a resounding "yes," and she couldn't help but agree. Fibonacci was innocent, deserving of a timely death many years from now in the most peaceful way possible… never at the end of a gun.  
She lifted her eyes to look at the reflection in the glass. How would she ever be able to face herself again if she did what she thinking of doing? More than that, how would she ever face Michael? He was smart; he'd figure out who got the information to Abruzzi, and never trust that person again… not that he really trusted Amanda right now, anyway. She wanted to believe that didn't bother her, that she didn't expect much of him either, but it'd be lie. She did trust him and longed for him to trust her in turn, but knew it'd never be so if she threw Fibonacci to the wolves.  
Amanda closed her eyes, breathing deeply, reaching into the depths of her soul for the answer she'd been looking for since last night's attack. Murder or be murdered... trust Michael to save her from Abruzzi's wrath or fly from Michael's before he found out.  
She looked at her reflection again, suddenly strong. No. She wouldn't be a murderer. She wouldn't be. She refused to be.  
The mantra repeated over and over in her head as she slipped her pajamas on and then toweled and scrunched her hair. Already, she felt more at ease, even though she knew Abruzzi would come for an answer tomorrow night. It didn't matter. She would overcome.  
Amanda began humming softly to herself and opened the door into the bedroom. Though she'd no idea how long she'd been in the shower, she was still slightly surprised to see that Anton hadn't returned yet. How long had it been? She looked back into the bathroom and not seeing her watch, wandered over to the suitcases stacked in the closet. Where else could she have left it? Never, had that watch been lost; it was one of her most treasured possessions.  
Amanda unzipped her suitcase's first front pocket and just as her fingers found the well-known watch face, she heard it- the all too familiar click of a gun's safety being removed.  
"Looking for something, are we?"  
Her whole body went cold, paling as she heard the voice her soul wouldn't ever forget and cursing herself for once again leaving her own weapon out of reach. It was all she could do to turn and cautiously face him as he was, leaning against the window across the room, gun in hand. He smiled as she lifted her eyes to his. "And… have we found it?"  
"Get out, Abruzzi." Her voice trembled, despite itself.  
"I couldn't help but overhear your talk with our boy this morning-touching, really." He stood. "You'll have Fibonacci by tomorrow night, I know."  
"If you're so sure, why are you here? And where's Anton? If you hurt him-"  
"I've done nothing to big brother. He went out for himself to get a drink. I thought it'd be the perfect chance for you and I to go over our deal… make sure our lines aren't crossed."  
"I'm not doing it."  
"What?"  
"I don't want to be a murderer. I don't want to be you." She flinched slightly as he raised the gun, but didn't look away. "You gave me 'til tomorrow night. I have one more day."  
"To what? To arrange for my removal?"  
"No. To get you all where you need to be. Think about it. If you kill me, Anton won't help you and if you kill both of us, you'll be right back to square one; five convicts with no where to go. What then?"  
"You think a little thing like that would stop me from pulling this trigger right now?"  
"If you want to get out of this alive, it will."  
A beat passed and another, but neither spoke. Abruzzi lowered the gun and stuffed it back into his pocket. "You're good, girlie." He chuckled. "I'll see you."  
"Later." Amanda spoke it as an order and meant it wholly, that is until she realized that the exiting door was behind her. Her enemy would have to walk right past her to leave… and she'd just insulted him.  
Abruzzi leisurely crossed the room, all the time looking down or up Amanda's figure, knowing the girl was probably now scared out of her wits. Their eyes met at the exact moment he stepped beside her and both knew then and there… only one of them would leave this room alive.  
Abruzzi needed no more excuse. He ducked beneath her right punch, stepping smoothly back and behind her for one of his favorite moves with those he intended to scare before he killed- the sleeper hold. No one ever expected it, because in it, Abruzzi always faked a frontal assault and then attacked from the rear. No one saw it coming. Amanda didn't either.  
She tried to drop before his arm could get around her neck, but he was too fast and before she knew it, her right hand was jammed between his elbow and her neck. Her mind began careening, desperately repeating that which she already knew; it would only take 20 seconds of a well-applied sleeper hold to knock her out for an uncertain amount of time, and already, the edges of the room were becoming fuzzy. How long had it been? How much longer did she have?  
Dots were beginning to form in her vision and all she could think about was another woman who'd died some 18 years ago. Is this how she'd left- struggling and longing to see her family again?  
No. Amanda had trained too long and too hard to make sure she wouldn't die like that and especially not when it would leave Anton in danger. If this hit-man really wanted the kill so badly, he was going to have to fight for it.  
She reached back with her left hand, jammed her fingers into Abruzzi's eyes, and sank her teeth into the arm around her neck. What hurt him more, she didn't know, but suddenly, she was free of the choke-hold and falling to the floor. As soon as her knees hit the carpet, she pivoted and rolled to her side, kicking her right foot out between his legs. He shouted again, louder this time, and lunged forward just as Amanda began to pull herself up from the floor. Both were determined to win and while she did have the white rage to drive her, he had the experience and a good advantage in size.  
Within seconds, Abruzzi had her pinned beneath him. "Later does come sooner than we think sometimes, doesn't it?" He smiled as she began to squirm. "What you don't understand, girlie, is here, right now, I hold your life in my hands and just as easily as I can give it, I can take it away."  
"Mich-" Her shout was cut off with a rough hand over her mouth.  
"If they catch me, they catch them. Understand?"  
She nodded, hoping that her distraction would keep him from noticing that she'd bent and planted her left leg up against her body for support.  
"Good." He smiled again, lecherously. "Now… where were we?"  
Amanda threw her right knee up against his backside, too sickened to let Abruzzi go any farther, and rolled to her left side as he fell forward. She knew that to regain his balance, he'd have to release her arms; as he did, she pushed him to the left and off of her. Both scrambled for their weapons, but Amanda reached hers first and, without even thinking, turned and fired one shot straight into Abruzzi's heart. He stopped, gun in hand, and looked at the girl almost collapsed against the wall. "You shot me."  
She didn't move.  
"You…" He laughed weakly. "Goodbye, girlie."  
Amanda knew it was coming even before he'd addressed her- she could see the glint harden in his eyes. He may be merciless, but on her feet, she was meticulous. She fired a second shot just as he raised his own gun again and there, he fell to the floor- cut down by a 26 year old girl who was now almost as frightened of the deathly silence as she had been of the man now lying forever still.  
In the quiet, her mind could fully comprehend what she'd just done. She'd killed a man-a horrible man, but a man nonetheless- and for what? For her life? What worthwhile thing had she ever done with this life to justify killing someone else to save it? And Michael… she had to tell Michael.  
It was more than likely that someone had heard the shots and the police were on their way now. They would have to run; there was no other way out of it because now… now, she would be wanted too. Oh, what had she done?  
Amanda tried slowly to pull herself up to stand, but the room began to dim and fade just as she reached the halfway point. As fast as she'd climbed, she sank again to the floor, now watching the room spin around itself. She didn't hear the voice outside the door or the key in the lock and by the time the door was open, for Amanda, everything had gone black.

-----  
Yay! I finally got to do an action scene. Do tell me how you liked it. I haven't written a fight in ages.


End file.
